


she looks up grinning like a devil

by Dandybear



Category: Lovecraft Country (TV)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/F, Gets on one knee: babe will you join me in cahoots?, Period-Typical Racism, The Devil is a White Feminist, We Stan A Grey Morality Femslash Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: If the price of the power is dancing with the devil then Ruby's happy to twist.
Relationships: Christina Braithwhite/Ruby Baptiste
Comments: 13
Kudos: 225





	she looks up grinning like a devil

**Author's Note:**

> so, I've got like a bunch of character study of both of these characters wearing a trench coat labelled fanfiction, and it just isn't hitting right. this is very basic canon-compliant or canon-divergent fluff, because I guess what I really want is them to be diabolical and shmoopy together.
> 
> I've left Christina's gender vague in this fic, but I have other works in-progress that kind of extrapolate on what wavelength I think she's on. Let me know what you think in a comment if you're so kind.
> 
> cheers

_ A woman is a creature that has always been strange _

_ Just when you're sure of what you'll find _

_ She's gone and made a change _

_ Is you is or is you ain't my baby? _

“You’ve got a heart like mine,” Mama told her the first time Ruby came home crying after a boy. Daniel, or David maybe, had kissed her behind the school, then told her the next day he didn’t really like tall girls.

“Shhh, Baby, you’ve just got a lot of love to give. Don’t let the world take that away from you. Being in love is wonderful. It’s a kind of magic. One you can experience again and again.”

It’s wisdom Ruby held onto, because Mama told her it like a secret. Something just between the two of them. No Leti or Marvin.

Being in love is its own kind of magic. Boys, black or white, who fawn over her powerful voice and luscious curves. And, she’s happy to fall head over heels, even though it always ends with her falling on her ass.

On the bad days she has a complex about it. Maybe if she was paler, skinnier, or shorter she might get a man to stay. But, then she thinks ‘what would they say if I was a man?’ Men like her? They get to play around the field as much as they want. Even the married ones. She’s certainly heard enough stories about Ray Charles’s wandering hands.

But, those are men, and she’s an unmarried woman her age. Not much to show for it. Sure, a bad boy can be a good muse for a few weeks before he runs off with the money or whatever it is he really came for.

She’s had no great love to write slow ballads about. No one to sing to in a crowd.

Maybe that’s why she’s staring at the ceiling of Hippolyta’s guest room with an ache in her chest that just won’t go away. She hates closing her eyes because when she does she sees frightened blue eyes and hears the Massachusetts drawl of, “Ruby, wait!”

She ran.

She had every right to run. Running was the smart bet, the safe bet. Even in a white neighbourhood in the middle of the day. Cops weren’t gonna help her, but they weren’t gonna hinder her leaving either. Especially when what she left behind was a blood soaked… well, man or woman, she’s not sure.

Ruby rubs her face. Jesus. Getting all  _ involved _ with a white man is complicated enough. At least there is precedent for sugar daddies with a preference for coloured girls. If they don’t stone her for miscegenating then they sure as hell will for being a deviant.

She closes her eyes again. White hair stained pink from viscera, a thin body shivering in the cold. The terror behind blue eyes.

Ruby hisses through her teeth. Of course the perfect man is the product of some monkey’s paw.

William isn’t perfect.

Wasn’t?

Isn’t?

The imperfection to William was Christina. The skinny white reminder that Ruby does not and will never belong at her man’s side. That place is reserved for a woman as white and blonde as he.

Except, the only difference between William and Christina is what’s between the legs at a given moment.

(Ideally, Ruby is between the legs at any given moment, but that’s not a sentiment she’s ready to voice yet.)

Turns out that cocky bitch was just playing her as a fool. It’s like she told Tamara, white people are  _ fucked up _ .

This time the picture behind her eyes is of Christina peering at her from behind that sheet of blonde hair.

_ “Do you care for him? Outside of the opportunity he’s providing you?” _

Ruby rolls her eyes. How schoolyard. Couldn’t even bother to ask himself. Herself.

_ Do you care for him? _

_ Do you care for me? _

William? Yes. She’s ass over applecart for that fine man. Thin lips and all. Any man who can make her cum, and then make her breakfast? A keeper.

Christina? It’s not like she has the best experience with white women. If they aren’t calling security with a smile, then they’re touching her hair, or forcing her even farther back into the bus. White women will kill you with kindness, and if that doesn’t work then they’ll get a white man to do it for them.

Christina has a dimple in her chin where William has none. She has those long, bony fingers, and she never smiles. Not really.

William is easy going. He’s got a swagger and a sense of humour, something that she likes about him.

_ Who are you, uninterrupted? _

Sleepless? No. Curious? Definitely. Hungry?

Hungry.

Blood pooled between Christina’s thighs, chunks of William still clinging to her, but not hiding the triangle of flattened golden hair.

_ “Ruby, wait.” _

She sits up. She doesn’t bother punching or fluffing the pillow. Sleep isn’t going to come.

Getting across town isn’t easy. In fact, it’s one of the stupider things she’s done. Sneaking in to a rich white house is going to get her shot, but she’s a guest here. She’s wanted.

Or she was.

Christina could shoot her on sight to keep her secret.

There’s no difference in the days since her absence. Some flowers William bought for her wilt in a vase. She sniffs a lily, eyes closed as the fading scent fills her nose.

There’s the telltale creak of the elevator and Christina is stepping out of it, preoccupied by her watch before sensing company.

“Ruby,” her voice is throaty where William’s is soft, but the tone’s the same.

She should have seen it sooner.

And, Ruby’s not really sure why she’s here or what she’s doing. She just trusts her legs as they lead her into Christina’s space and stares up into moon eyes.

“Was it just some sick joke to you?”

Christina surveys her, mouth opening and teeth clicking uselessly, “It was never a joke to me.”

“Then what? What the fuck do you want from me?” Ruby hisses, “And don’t you dare lie.”

Christina flounders on her words before closing her eyes. When she opens them there’s a sharp clarity previously hidden behind batting lashes, “I wanted to gain entry to your sister’s house.”

Ruby turns on heel and slaps the wall, “Leti? I should have known,” she laughs, “Of course. It’s always Leti.”

“It’s not--” Christina sighs, “There’s something from the previous owner that I need.”

“Some magic shit, right?”

Christina winces apologetically.

“Unbelievable. So, what, you were gonna seduce me, give me more and more whatevers until you could blackmail me into stealing from my kin?”

And, just like every other time Ruby’s called Christina on her bullshit, all protests die on Christina’s lips. Instead she nods, “Yes. That was the original plan.”

“Oh? You’re going to tell me that something changed.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Ruby. When I saw you it was … you bewitched me.”

“Save the sweet talking for William because you are not good at it.”

“I’m well aware. When I wear his face I get to be romantic. I get to be charming. When I’m me, well, you said it better. I’m just a white woman disillusioned with myself.”

“And what are you illusioned with? Besides playing around with coloured girls and magical objects.”

“Power, Ruby. It’s power I’m after.”

Ruby folds her arms, feeling the room with the secrets spilled between them.

“What kind of power are we talking about here?” curiosity pulls her in.

Christina smiles, a true one, “The power to rewrite history itself. Undo tragedies, or simply change the hands of the winning teams.”

Ruby’s heart throbs and her armpits sweat. Incomprehensible. Impossible, except changing race and sex were impossible once upon a time.

“How?”

“It lets you travel through space and time as if it were pages of a book.”

Ruby wets her lips. Rewriting history with her own pen. A stroke there saves her family from white masters. A dotted ‘i’ here stops the slave trade from ever even happening. Or, a crossed ‘t’ gives her all the fame and fortune she could desire. When she refocuses she sees a hot hunger in Christina’s gaze.

“You want it too,” she says.

“It’s some sort of crazy white voodoo,” Ruby looks away.

She’s shown the opening though, and it’s one Christina takes, moving closer, “Maybe, but this white voodoo could keep you from ever being interrupted again.”

She’s close enough for their noses to touch. Close enough for Ruby to smell William’s cologne thick on her. Something she read as a boast before, her marking herself with her man’s smell as a staking of claim.

No, Christina just smells like a man.

Her man.

“Are you offering?” Ruby glances up.

“I never rescinded my offer,” Christina breathes.

“I’m not going to go into that basement and find the bodies of the other black girls you gave the same offer to, am I?”

“No. You’ll find William and Hillary’s bodies down there. I can show you if you’d like.”

An invitation that both tantalizes and disgusts Ruby. Like everything about Christina. A sick pleasure.

“So William was real then?”

“I didn’t lie. He was shot and left in the river. I saved him, in a way.”

“By wearing his face?”

“And reclaiming what is his!” her eyes are blazing and Ruby’s heart throbs again.

Christina sees the shadow pass her face, “What is it?”

Ruby’s going to regret this. She is. Eventually. Right now, though? It’s so much easier to let her heels leave the ground.

“There really is no one else?”

Christina’s confusion is somewhere between hopeful and shy, “I really do keep too busy to entertain such company.”

Heels off the ground.

Ruby bumps their noses together, “So, are you mine then?”

Christina sighs into her, nuzzling back, “If you wish it.”

The hunger that surges through her surprises Ruby. Kissing Christina with Ruby’s lips. Two women stripped out of their suits. Long fingers inch up until they’re cupping Ruby’s cheeks. 

Somehow, her own hands end up tangled in blonde hair. Christina’s mouth tastes like William’s, but her lips are fuller and softer. A touch Ruby could learn to like.

“Does every offer stand?” she says when they part.

Christina laughs, kiss-drunk and giddy, “Which are you thinking of?”

“There’s a few places I’d like you to kiss.”

And maybe the trip out to the North side in the dead of night is worth seeing the pale bitch (her woman) turn bright red.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one sitting at midnight, so all mistakes are because of that. thanks for your time. please join me in screaming about this pairing.


End file.
